Capitalists?
by Kitty's Muse
Summary: Ever wondered what it would be like to have the capitals of the nations personified? Well, it's actually quite chaotic... Obviously full of OCs, though canon characters still play a large role. Minor cursing.
1. Introduction

**Hello! So, this is my first fanfiction I've posted in a long time. It was partly inspired by several stories all involving capitals of some sort and so I decided I'd go ahead and post this while I'm working on my more canon (in some ways) story. I can't give you all an update schedule, but I do hope to update this at least bi-weekly. Hope you enjoy!**

**Capitalists?**

Chapter 1: Introduction

D.C. POV

"What the hell London? Get off me, git!" The brunette folded her arms as best as she could and glared at the smirking blond who had given her a surprise hug. Never mind that said hug had come from in front of her, this chica was still pissed that he had done that for no reason at all.

"Ah, has England been around you too much? I thought that was _our_ catch phrase." He still backed off, holding her at arm's length and looking her up and down. "It's been too long. You've grown to be so big!" He laughed at her distraught expression. Apparently he was enjoying it. She, however, was not.

"Let. Go. Of. Me. This is unprofessional, and the President of the _United States_ is only in the next room. Would you rather explain to him just why you suddenly developed a black eye and bruises?" She smirked back at his fearful expression, though he had yet to let go of her. Oh well. She couldn't go off like America and not give any time for things. Besides, it had been years since she had seen the Brit, and she was also glad to see him. She, however, had not been expecting his out there attitude or general outgoingness. She had met Britain several times before and though the two looked similar (all London needed was slightly lighter hair, green instead of blue eyes and to grow out his eyebrows and he'd be good to go) Arthur was much more professional acting… when he wasn't tsundere. She snorted slightly to herself. She'd have to thank Tokyo for that reference- and the mangas he had left behind. He probably hadn't noticed that due to the sheer number he kept but she couldn't be sure.

She heard footsteps and talking and both of the capitals whipped their heads toward the double doors that served as the entrance to the room. London suddenly loosened his grip, smoothing out his suit and trying to pat down his hair. She leaned against a wall, checking over her own suit for any noticeable wrinkling before turning her smirk towards him. Self-conscious, was he? Now _that_ could be interesting, but she'd have to save that for another time. Now was the time for business.

Six figures walked through the doors, though three quickly peeled off and moved to their respective positions outside the room and one positioned by a door to a storage closet on the right side of the room. Secret service- gotta love them and their completely shut mouths. The only leaks of the existence of a nation or capital had come from the ranks of newly initiated CIA members and Benedict Arnold, which were both easily contained. Then again, Benedict had left the country soon after and the British army as a whole was informed of just who they were protecting (whether he was a member of the Royal Family or not was disputed amongst themselves) so of course they hadn't given a damn. She hadn't been around to witness this but she remembered many bedtime stories involving that very tale over and over again. America wasn't creative all the time.

The three remaining to move further into the room were distinctive enough, though they were forced (well, in one case at least) to wear identifying name tags when on business. The first was the President himself, the confident and smiling Barack Obama. He continued on to his desk as the other two continued to argue about something or another. Poor thing looked a little nervous under his casual exterior. D.C. had learned very quickly to judge emotions on more than facial expressions, and the ever popular President was walking a little too quickly and lightly for supposedly being calm. She nodded curtly at him, saying a curt "Hello, Mr. President," before turning to look at the last visitors to the Oval Office.

The first had a slim frame, well trimmed and cared for suit, and overtly large eyebrows. Unfortunately or not his hair refused to lie flat and so stuck up at odd angles, though it was short enough to not cause a problem. Unlike the Brit she had met previously his eyes were a light green of some sort and his voice was slightly more accented, with more 'git's and 'bloody hell's and the like interspersed throughout his speech. He also corrected the other's language much more than London did to hers. Then again, she actually felt a need to bother to keep up with good grammar when in the presence of either of the two, as Brits were infamous for their hatred of American spelling and grammar.

Mentioning American spelling, the very personification of the superpower was being berated on his use of the words 'ain't' and 'yo'. He, of course, wasn't phased at all by this and only continued to smile and deliberately use more of the slang in his speech. This of course was not appropriate for a political meeting, but anyone who got to know Albert knew that there was no good way to completely sober him up in terms of being actually serious. He hadn't needed the other kind of 'sobering up' for years, and the capital dearly hoped that would stay the case.

He was also not dressed very professionally, and his hair needed to be combed. In their home or casual visits were one thing, professional meetings _with the president_ quite another. As had become characteristic of the blond his hair was thoroughly messed up with Nantucket sticking up from the top of his head. He was wearing Texas, or at least what he called Texas, and his trademarked (quite literally) 50 states bomber jacket. He was also wearing jeans, which really ticked both his capital and his former parent of sorts off. The bomber jacket and hair was one thing- after all, he just wasn't _America_ without them- but the pants quite another. He could've bothered to at least wear decent pants but instead had strode in with dirtied blue jeans that needed repairs and washing. Why was it that she seemed to be the only politically sane one of the two? Then again, he _was_ the very nation that she called home and though his political whiplash wasn't as bad as hers he had been dealing with it and the opinions of other nations longer than she had.

She looked back at London, still smiling, and he stuck his tongue out at her. How immature of him. She didn't react beyond rolling her eyes at him, straightening up from the wall as the man who represented the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland approached her. She shook his outstretched hand, noting that his handshake was firm. She would have been surprised if it was less.

He nodded at her. "Nice to see you again, Miss Clark."

Her smirk still hadn't left her face. "The same, Mr. Kirkland. But you know that I prefer Washington D.C., or even D.C. I tend not to use that name unless I'm in public, and it's quite the private setting compared to what awaits President Obama outside." She chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if they broke into the front hall again. Between the current crisis in Egypt and the stir being caused by the House he doesn't have any private time to himself." She frowned slightly. "Speaking of which…" the capital murmured to herself.

"I wouldn't be worried about Egypt. Besides, he never voices his opinions or emotions, so we'll be quite clueless for a while yet. It shouldn't be of any concern in that respect." The older chuckled.

"Says the man whose company spilled oil all over the Gulf of Mexico." D.C. muttered to herself, glaring for a moment at his back, which had been turned towards her. She looked to her right, pushing her shoulders back as she looked at the latest president to grace this room. London was acting similarly, having shifted so he was standing by England's side. Indeed, that boy cleaned up his act when it was time for business. She noticed America walk over and stand by her left side, still grinning. At least he hadn't brought a hamburger this time.

"So," The President started out, nodding and smiling to each personification in turn before leaning slightly back into his seat. "What is our first topic of discussion?"

Berlin POV

"What the hell are you doing now, Königsberg? Is that vodka you're holding? That is _not_ as awesome as bier. You're not even legal age to drink that stuff!"

"I can drink whatever I wish to, брат. Besides, in your country it's _perfectly_ legal for someone my age to consume alcohol. This is not counting the fact that I'm much older than any of my teenage 'peers' I may bump into. Now shut up and let me drink my водка in peace." The platinum blonde tipped back her head, taking several swallows of the clear liquid while watching the other out of the corner of her eye.

Prussia, as was expected, did not take it well. His face reddened in anger and his eyes narrowed. "How _dare_ you speak that _unawesome_ language in this house. The arschloch kept me and my people in his f***ing house for _fifty years_ and Berlin still hasn't gotten over being _split in half_ by that hurensohn." He pointed at the yellow blonde standing behind the formal capital, who was watching the proceedings nervously. "See? You've scared her!"

Said blonde was about to speak in protest but was interrupted by the other female. "I don't even know why I come here! All I want to do is talk to my sister, who I almost never see, and instead I'm insulted by the likes of _you._ I may not be a fancy-pants capital any longer but at least I'm not a basement dweller, drinking _bier_-" She slurred the word, sneering at the albino opposite from her, "-and leeching off of my family!"

Silence. The two were now standing, facing off in a staring contest pitting blood red against pale blue. Berlin fought between the urge to roll her eyes and panicking, so she stayed still where she had been standing. After a couple of seconds Prussia's frown lightened slightly and he pulled back, muttering to himself about "that damn Russian." Berlin noticed the hint of a smile on her sister's lips before it deepened into a disgruntled scowl. She turned and stomped slightly towards the door, grabbing her coat as she went. She quickly reached the door and was starting to turn the handle when she seemed to think of something.

"And it's Kaliningrad, sooka." She turned as she walked out the door, looking at the darker blonde now staring at her. "If you need me сестра I'll be at Россия's place, so give a call there. If you're not comfortable with that you can always call Lithuania's cell phone and he'll be able to leave a message for you. Love you!" She gave Prussia one last glare before slamming the door shut behind her.

Berlin sighed, brushing some of her bangs back behind her ear and making sure that her ponytail was still in place. "Prus-" The German capital had stopped upon seeing the expression on the Prussian's face as he stared at the wall opposite him. She took a deep breath. She needed to stay calm for the moment, then she could panic as much as she wished and call up her sister or her friend. She _needed_ to be calm.

"I'll- I'll be upstairs if you're looking for me." Seeing that his expression hadn't changed at the comment she went to plan B. "Deutschland restocked the bier in the fridge, in case you were wanting to know. Now, I'll be upstairs in my room." She turned towards the staircase, noticing that a slightly manic gleam had seemingly come to the former nation's eyes and a spring to his step as he rushed to the kitchen. However, no one was more aware of the pain he was hiding and would be attempting to drown than her.

Paris POV

This was an _awkward_ conversation.

The two representatives of their respective land groups, one a city, the other an entire nation, were sitting silently side by side. He had greeted her upon her return, she had responded in kind, and now they hadn't said another word for ten minutes. She looked straight ahead, specifically avoiding any glance of him or of his expression, while he seemed to be looking down at his lap. She hadn't _seen_ him like that, _oh no_; she was just guessing that was how he was. _No one_ could know him better than _her_, of _course_.

_Merde._

This was _not_ the way things were supposed to be going between them. She should've been closer to him than this, even as a friend or cousin, but even his occasional human flings knew more about him than she did. Sure, she had only met him sixty-five years ago when others had known their nations since childhood but that didn't excuse _this_. Hell, he talked to _Russia_ and _Switzerland_ more than she talked to him or him to her. Where was the whole "feel bonded with your nation" thing when she needed it?

"_Paris?_" She jumped slightly at the word, but maintained her position even at the French being spoken. "_Sont vous bien Paris_?"

She sighed, not turning her head to look at him. "I'm fine, Francis." She held her hands still in her lap, glancing out the window and noting that it was later than she had thought. No wonder why France was speaking up now.

"Are you sure, mademoiselle? You seem upset." He sounded like he was purring, and it quite frankly annoyed the long haired blonde. However, he was correct- she _was_ upset. Specifically she was upset about him and their relationship, or better yet their lack of one. Not that she wanted to be involved with him in _that_ way- far from it. He was a pervert around people he knew well and she frankly didn't look forward to the idea of getting groped by his wandering hands. He'd be one hell of a scary Santa. However…

She glanced at him sideways to find that he was staring at her expectantly- and did he really look worried? She did a double take before sighing and turning towards him. Well, if he was worried that meant he wasn't prone to go into horny mode, so maybe she wouldn't have to worry about talking to him. The act of talking, however, took her a little longer to get to, involving some thought and brushing back of her hair. Though straight as a rod it tended to get into her face if she didn't keep it back with some sort of clip and it still managed to get on her nerves even then.

"I guess," She said, taking her time to convey her thoughts, "It's that we're so cold towards each other. _That does not mean grope me, Francis Bonnefoy_." She stopped the nation from his shady intentions with a glare. "What I mean is that we never talk. This is not the first time we've spent-" She looked at the clock and revised her statement. "-okay, maybe it _is_ the first time we've spent an hour not talking to each other, but it's not the first time that we've avoided discussion for any period of time. I don't even know when you were born, or why you're such a fierce rival with England, or even what Seychelles's real name is. I'm your capital. I'm supposed to know more about you," She took a quick breath, glancing out of the window. "And you're supposed to know more about me. _And not in _that _way, pervert._"

France reluctantly took his hands once again off of her and she took the opportunity to back towards the other end of the couch. Damn, France just did not stop being France, did he?

The Frenchman looked down at his lap, actually looking chastised for once. _He must be faking it_, the capital thought to herself. _No way can France, from what I know of him, actually feel _regretful _or _sorry _for groping someone._

"_Je suis désolé._"

"_Que_?"

* * *

**Okay, so translations (according to various sites and my brother, who is not very adept but still a help with French)-**

**брат- brother (Russian)**

**водка- vodka (Russian)**

**Arschloch- a**hole (German)**

**Hurensohn- son of a b***h (German)**

**Sooka- (roughly) b***h (Russian)**

**Сестра- sister (Russian)**

**Россия- Russia (Russian)**

**Merde- sh*t (French)**

**Sont vous bien?- are you okay? (French)**

**Je suis désolé- I'm sorry (French)**

**Que?- What? (French)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yeah, this is a bit on the short side (and _way_ too late!). However, I decided that the best way for me to actually be able to update with any sort of real frequency is to go to shorter chapters, mainly meaning that I'll only write one or two POVs per chapter, not like the first chapter. I'll try to update this every week or two but as that's what I said last time... I may not be able to keep with that. School's a little chaotic right now but hopefully it'll calm down after the AP tests (I have APUSH, and we're packing in lots of stuff and homework until then) and I'll be able to update this and my other story faster. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! (And I apologize ahead of time if there's any OOCness on America's part.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, McDonald's, or anything else mentioned in here other than my Washington D.C. OC. **

Chapter 2: The Relationship Between a Nation and Their Capital

D.C. POV

"Alfred."

"Whuht?"

The capital sighed. "Stop eating burgers so much."

"Whuhy?"

She frowned at the blond. He seriously needed to chew and swallow his food _before_ he started talking to people. Or at least take smaller bites so he'd be able to talk around his meal. "It's unhealthy for you and quite disgusting. Do you even know how many calories and grams of fat are in that thing?"

"Nope." He had finally swallowed his gigantic bite of the double patty burger he had been eating and so grinned at her. It was quite repulsing- she could still see bits of hamburger meat and cheap lettuce on his usually white teeth. "I don't really care either. Can I have some of your fries?"

The younger rolled her eyes. "Of course you can, Alfred. Just- just take them all, okay?" At least the sight of him talking while chewing French fries wouldn't be near as bad as when he was eating one of his numerous burgers. Besides, she had only gotten them because she wasn't sure if the salad she had ordered would taste enough like a salad for her to be able to eat it, and she wanted something as backup. Thank god McDonald's hadn't messed up a bunch of lettuce and toppings, unlike the greasy cow meat on bread that they called a "hamburger".

"Thanks!" He smiled widely, grabbing the aforementioned fries and promptly shoving a couple into his mouth. D.C. cringed, but made no comment and instead turned to her salad.

America looked at the food she was eating and seemed to cough a little. "How-how could you eat that, D.-" She glared at him, glancing at a group of teenagers to their left pointedly. "Ally?" He corrected himself quickly. Hey, who said that America couldn't be smart every now and then?

"I can eat this, _Alfred_, because it tastes good and is healthier than that lump of lard that you usually eat. Lots of people are either going vegetarian or are being smart and dieting. Mainly those people are _women_." She smirked, going back to eating her food. Aah, how much she loved to mock the opposite gender, especially since it was already easy to mock her nation.

America looked at his burger, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment, before the rest of her statement was processed by him. "Hey, are you suggesting that men are dumber than women?"

"Of _course_ not, Alfred. Men are _the most_ intelligent people _ever_, _far more _than _women_." She laughed at the expression of confusion on his face. "I'm messing with you, Alfred. And you wonder why I like to tease you so much." She opened the plastic bottle of water she had bought and took a sip, leaning back in her seat and keeping up her smirk.

"I knew that! The hero always knows that!" He retorted- rather badly, in D.C.'s opinion-, trying to glare and sticking his tongue out at her.

_Men._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Woo! This chapter came out longer than I had originally thought it was going to be. Also, I may come back later on and re-edit it, as I think Berlin may have been a bit OOC herself (as the ending part was typed up at almost midnight). My... weird... writing skills sometimes surprise even myself. But I got this out on time, right? :] And as to clarify, Kaliningrad=Konigsberg. Konigsberg (with the colon thing over the o) no longer technically exists, as the city itself was Russianized and became Kaliningrad, but they are still one and the same in this story. Also, Konigsberg was the capital of Prussia before Berlin was (and was the capital of East Prussia too). Other details, especially ones pertaining to the timeframe of the Cold War, will be (hopefully and eventually) explained later on in the story.**

**The next chapter will be pertaining to the capital of one sunny country and her relations with another certain capital. I shall working on that chapter soon, but it may be a bit slow as I'm still working on their character profiles.**

**Disclaimer: I wished I owned Hetalia. I don't. Sad day...**

Chapter 3: And You Thought _Your _Life Was Complicated

Berlin POV

"_Deutschland? Where do I put the groceries this time?"_ The teenager, though she was nearing adulthood in terms of her appearances, looked up at her country's straight face with a pleading expression on her face. _"I forgot where these go again, and Preußen will tell me the wrong spot just to mess with me again."_

The older German sighed, looking down at the floor as he talked. _"They go in the cabinets to the left of the sink. Where did mein bruder tell you to put them last time?"_

"_On top of the fridge. I couldn't reach that high so I put them in the cabinet below the burners." _ She smiled nervously. She realized that the only time she acted this shy or nervous was around Deutschland, and she could only assume that it was because he was her only sort of parental figure. Prussia- hah! It was a testament to Deutschland's strength of character that he hadn't turned out horribly from his brother's care- or the albino had actually done something right for once. She paused, thinking about it for a moment. Nah, must've been the first one.

She placed the groceries on the counter and started putting them away into the designated cabinet when there was a very clear knocking from the front door. She looked up at the other personification, silently asking if she should answer it (or if it was Italy again- not that he ever knocked). He nodded to her exasperatedly and she put down the food she had been sorting and ran over to the door, which was now having some sort of rhythm beat onto it.

When she opened the door, she squealed slightly. "Aleksandra!"

The platinum blonde rolled her blue eyes, which were quite a bit lighter than the other's dark ones. _"Good afternoon to you too, Amalia," _She greeted in German, slipping into it relatively easily and keeping her voice down low. _"Now, is that person up and around the house? You know what he'd do if he caught me here again."_

Berlin looked back at her older brother of sorts (though she was technically much older than he was), who simply replied _"No, Prussia's still hung over" _and walked back into the kitchen. She turned to Kaliningrad.

"_Your room?"_

"_Ja!"_ The blonde smiled widely, grabbing the hand of the paler city and dragging her upstairs. _"I still have that emergency ladder under my bed just in case he wakes up earlier than usual. He was out pretty late last night though so I doubt that's going to be a problem."_

"_Let me guess- with France and Spain?"_

"_How did you know?" _She snarked back at her sister. _"Who else? Well, who else who would let him stay out late enough and drink enough to still be crashed out at this time in the afternoon?" _She giggled slightly. _"It's always hilarious when he comes back at night- he'll be begging for forgiveness for the most mundane things, including him staying out that night drinking again, and he'll be singing the most ridiculous songs in languages he can't even pronounce because he's slurring so much." _

"_Oh, really now?"_ Kaliningrad replied. _"Well, you should see Russia after he's drunk one too many bottles of vodka." _Her sister looked at her skeptically. _"No, I'm dead serious. He can't even tell the difference between Belarus and Lithuania when he gets really drunk! I even heard that he jumped out of a plane once with no parachute because he thought the snow would be soft. I heard he was shouting 'Vodkaaa!' too while falling through the air…"_

This conversation about drunken antics of the nations they had to live with continued on for another couple of minutes before merging into talk about their daily lives and recent happenings. Moscow had apparently been trying to hit on Kaliningrad again (_"That cow!"_) and was still, of course, unsuccessful. Berlin expressed guilty delight that he was bugging her sister and not herself and the other assured her that she had too much fun making fun of him and teasing him to be bothered by it. It still seemed that Ukraine's official visits were rare (though she often left treats with Kaliningrad or Moscow for her brother or even gave them to her sister to deliver) and so were those of the Baltics (_"Russia still doesn't get it…"_) and China (_"He always stalks China anyways, so it's really not that surprising"_). Belarus was still a frequently uninvited guest to the Russian's home, which really scared him (_"It scares me and some of the other cities that sometimes visit too. Moscow pretends to be all brave- mainly when Russia's there too- but everyone knows that he's also scared witless."_), an emotion otherwise not present in the tall Russian.

The discussion turned back to Berlin, who happily related the recent happenings within the residence of the German countries and the visiting place of some of Germany's other cities, though they all preferred to live in their own places. (The capitals usually didn't care much for the other cities anyways, and Kaliningrad was an exception namely due to her previous status as the capital of Prussia who knows how long ago. Berlin had also heard talk about a 'New York City' and 'Los Angeles' from Washington D.C. and so knew that some cities were more talked about than others.) She relayed how Deutschland was still very kind to her (_"Admittedly he's sort of like the father figure I never really had"_), how Italy still visited often (_"He's so cute, and he always makes Deutschland blush and smile, even if he hides it from him"_) and how Romano still came over only to drag Italy back home (and call all of the Germans "potato" and "wurst" bastards, but namely Germany). Austria and Hungary also occasionally visited, sometimes with Budapest or Vienna, but either they would leave soon after or Berlin would be gone on some sort of business (_"I miss way back when I had no paperwork to fill out for the most trivial things…"_) and she didn't particularly like Austria anyway.

At that point her sister asked if he still acted the same way and after learning that he apparently did (_"Really? Heh heh heh…"_) started imitating him and his (according to them and most other people they knew) pompous and aristocratic behavior. Berlin had to admit that even though she acted like she disapproved and tried maintaining a frown of "disappointment" she found the portrayal (_"Where's my piano? I can't go out in this shirt when it's wet outside! Look at all that disgusting mud!"_) highly amusing. Kaliningrad was pretty good at imitating others.

In the middle of the older's (they still debated this, as Berlin's actual coming into existence was a little ambiguous and rather close in timeframe to Kaliningrad's- originally Königsberg- founding) acting and the other's watching and occasional talking with her sister rapid knocking ensued on Berlin's door. Both stopped their talking, turning to look at it for a moment before an all too familiar and obnoxious voice started speaking through the door.

"_Hey, Berlin, let the awesome me in, will ya?" _

Both young women turned to stare briefly at each other before the German capital shouted back _"No, I'm changing right now. Stay out!"_

As Prussia formed his response (something like _"But it's eleven in the morning!"_) Berlin started whispering to her sister and reaching under her bed, pulling out the emergency ladder that she had mentioned much earlier. _"Okay, once I got this set up out of the window you'll have to go, okay Sandra?"_

"_But I don't want to go,"_ the platinum blonde complained. _"Why does he always have to ruin all of my fun?"_

"_Oh really, he does now?" _She looked at her sister skeptically. _"What about your fun teasing and mocking Moscow about his crush or whatever it is on you? Besides, if I let you stay around and he catches sight of you all that will happen is you'll both stare at each other for hours before bickering about something which always ends in you leaving dramatically and him getting all moody and weird on me in turn. I can't have that occur again." _She hugged her sister and gave her puppy eyes. _"Please go and don't make any trouble with Prussia?"_

Kaliningrad sighed. _"Oh fine, I'll leave before that unawesome dude breaks through the door. Just make sure to call more Mali, alright? It gets rather boring at Russia's place…"_

"_I promise."_

"_Good then! I'm going now. Hope you won't miss me too much." _The ex-capital winked, grabbing onto the ladder that had been set up during their quickly whispered chat, and half-slid, half-stepped down the rope rungs.

Berlin sighed, pulling the ladder up once her sister had hopped off and bundling it up before shoving it back under her bed and closing the window. She turned towards the door, which Prussia was _still_ knocking on, and pulled it open.

"_Ah, there you are finally! What took you so unawesomely long?"_

"_Why does it matter?" _She replied in her typical, slightly sweet and quiet tone, before trying to push past her brother/previous country/pest. He didn't move.

"_She was here, wasn't she?"_

She smiled innocently at him. _"Who, Hungary? Sorry, haven't seen her since the last time she visited during December."_

He leaned up against the door post, blocking the rest of the frame with his foot while smirking slightly. _"No. The awesome me is referring to the other unawesome b*tch."_

The blonde frowned at him. _"I'm sorry, but I really don't know who you're talking about. However, I do know that if you don't move soon I'll take up that offer from 'the frying pan b*tch'."_

The self-proclaimed Prussian frowned and then smirked. _"West still doesn't know about that, does he? Kesesese…"_

"_Does it matter? No. Besides, he knows as well as you do that I wouldn't do anything that would really embarrass him or be abnormal. Hungary really doesn't care about the opinions of her 'subjects' anyway, so if you'll excuse me… unless you __do__ want me to call her?"_

He muttered something about her being 'unawesome' before he put his leg down.

"_Thank you! Now, don't forget to brush your teeth and don't stay out so late next time, okay? You were trying to get intimate with the floor when you came back…"_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Why Can't We Be Friends~?

Madrid POV

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

The Spanish city found herself skipping happily down the relatively empty street, swinging her arms by her sides as she looked up at the buildings that she passed by. The city of Rome was quite the sight, even on those streets and in areas not so well renowned for some masterpiece of architecture or art. Plus, it was such a big area that she could get away from the biggest crowds easily, even if she would've had fun talking with them. The person _she_ was looking for wasn't that great of a talker…

She came upon one of the parks that dotted the area and entered it, still grinning widely. She had decided to go on a trip of her own and so had left Spain behind at his house several hours earlier. Romano had also been there, though it hadn't taken too long for him to get irate at the more relaxed of the two men and start upsetting Madrid. Sure, she could handle their bickering just fine if she wanted to, but she really didn't feel like doing so today and had instead left them behind and took an impromptu visit to her friend's place. Not that the mentioned friend knew a thing about it, but that's how almost all of Madrid's visits went. It should be _expected_ by this point in time.

Speaking of which…

Who but her best buddy—at least in her opinion—would be sitting on a bench, facing away from her?

Needless to say, Madrid's pace rapidly picked up, until she pulled to a stop right in front of the other capital. Unfortunately, Roma hadn't noticed her yet, and the spiky-haired brunette was still staring aimlessly into space. The Spaniard would just have to fix that, wouldn't she?

And so, she smiled widely, found where her friend's two crossed hairclips were, and hugged her.

A moment later, Rome screamed and scuttled away quickly from the now grinning city, who was playing with the barrettes in her own hair. She couldn't help but think how cute Roma looked when she did that, especially since she was staring wide-eyed at her and was actually reacting to something. Then again, it wasn't the hug that did anything.

It was her hair curl, which the elder usually managed to hide in her hair.

Problem: Madrid had been friends, at least in some way, with Rome for a _long_ time, and she knew—almost—all of the other's secrets. Including the one about her hair curl—and her using hair clips so she could hold it down so no one else would notice it. Obviously, she had failed in that aspect…

It didn't take long for the Italian to sit properly on the bench—though now pressed up against the other side of it—and to resume her seeming contemplation of whatever happened to be in front of her, which at the moment was the ground at her feet. However, the Spaniard was not about to ignore who she considered to be her best buddy and so scooted closer to the other.

"How have you been, Roma? I haven't seen you in a while!" Madrid turned towards her fellow city, grinning widely at her.

The other took a moment to respond. "Fine." She still wasn't looking up from her sandals.

Madrid pouted. "Roooma, why won't you talk with me? I haven't seen you in forever and all I want to do is have a conversation with you."

"Yeah," The other replied, sounding rather sarcastic though it was a little hard to tell with her. Chica never seemed to talk, but today she was speaking even less than normal.

So Madrid took that moment of slightly awkward silence to think.

And think.

Oh.

_Oh._

"…Is it about Venecia again?"

Another pause, and then a slow nod from the Italian capital. "Sì, it is."

"Aww, Fina, it'll be alright, I'm here…" The Spaniard hugged the other around her arms gently, smiling in what she thought was a reassuring manner. "It's only a matter of time before we find tu hermana, Fina, and then everything will be back to normal, sí?" She continued to mutter 'It's only a matter of time' partially to herself and partially to the still mostly silent girl next to her- but she had reason to be so.

You see, very few cities, capitals, or nations knew about the disappearance of Venice, back sometime after the end of World War Two. In fact, Madrid herself only knew of it because she had been listening in on a conversation between Romano and Rome—namely the first one they had about the issue. The city had barely been able to choke out a single coherent sentence—"She's gone!"—before breaking down hysterically into tears. Though Madrid had been panicking—who had gone? Who had disappeared?—she was glad later on that she was the only one listening in. She couldn't help but have the feeling that Spain wouldn't have been able to keep his mouth shut as long as she did.

It figures out that Italy Veneziano himself had then come in, actually sobering down enough to be able to say that his (in a way) namesake city had spent the day among the canals and hadn't come back that evening, and neither Rome nor the other Italian cities that helped her, namely Padua and Treviso, had been able to find her in their desperate search. Rome, stressed over post-war political and military issues in the country and other such factors, snapped. She hadn't been the same since.

"It's only a matter of time, Serafina…"

**A/N: Yep, it's at the bottom this time. Decided to switch things up. ;] Anyways, I'm looking for a beta. Not a "correct my horrid grammar/spelling" sort of beta (as I'm a bit of a Grammar Nazi sometimes) but more of a "this story looks good/the canon characters are in character" beta. I just need someone willing to read this over ahead of time and make sure that the writing looks good. Anyone up to doing that? **

**Speaking of which, I'm not sure why exactly this took such a depressing turn. Talk about bipolar writing... Ah well, the next chapter shouldn't be so much of a downer! There'll be more new cities in there, including mentions of a (slightly plot related) event and some more of my headcanon thing relating to the cities/capitals. Hope y'all aren't wanting to kill me by now with having two non-capitals in this story so far (even if one was only mentioned). One was more of a "I should have done more research" turned into "this actually worked out quite well for story purposes mwahahah" while the other... I justified because there was a certain half of a country (coughVenezianocough) named after her, and the idea relating to her kind of took off after that... Just please, don't hurt me! I have relatives in the city you live in! /shot**

**Ahem- as to translations, I think there's only one that might need to be explained:**

**Tu hermana (Spanish)- Your sister**

**Hope you enjoyed it, and I'll try to update the next chapter a bit sooner!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Not Again…

Warsaw POV

"Hey Vilnius, would you get over here already?"

The blonde turned her head away from the book she had been reading and looked at the two girls staring expectantly at her. One, a black haired girl with dark brown eyes, was grinning and looking in between Vilnius and a brunette. Aforementioned female, who had been the one to speak up, had her hands on her hips and was slightly glaring at her friend. "Like, seriously," she added, "I haven't seen you in a while and all you're doing is sitting there reading something that probably isn't good anyways."

Vilnius giggled. "You're sounding like Poland."

She huffed angrily. "I do not! Why would I sound like a man who paints his fingernails and dresses in short skirts?"

Vilnius covered her mouth slightly with her hand. Like her friend thought that she couldn't tell that she was giggling again. "Well, you're the one who lives with him-"

"I don't live with him! I have my own apartment, thank you very much. I don't think I'd be able to stand him if I had to stay with him."

"Well, you _are_ his capital-"

"That doesn't matter!"

"Yes it does-"

"No it doesn't!"

"It does!"

"It doesn't!"

"It does!"

"It does-"

"Quiet, or else I'll pull a Hungary on you!" The third member of their group finally spoke up, giving fierce glares to the two. "Sure, all your fighting has so many implications that please me a lot, but you're still getting on my nerves!" She pointed to the blonde. "Seriously, Vilnius, you're such a wonderful girl but you're secretly sadistic or something! Don't let us see it in public, 'kay? We put up with enough from Moscow and the like, we don't want to put up with you acting all provocative and weird." She left the Lithuanian stuttering as she moved her finger to the other, who was blowing at her brown bangs. "And _you_, Warsaw, don't think that just because you're so BA—at least in your opinion—that you are higher than most everyone else. And you're still a chick, not a dude, so don't be dissing your country too much for his behaviors when you're the one whose been acting like you have testosterone and not estrogen running through your body since the fifteen hundreds! Alright, so maybe that's an overstatement, but that doesn't matter. The point is that neither of you act like your gender."

"Bu-but I _am_ manlier than he is! It's so pathetic!"

"So? He's girlier than you. You're both kind of messed up." The black haired capital grinned as Vilnius just rolled her eyes, smiling slightly at the ceiling.

"But Budapest-"

"No 'but'ting me. Magyarország _did_ actually teach me how to use a frying pan as a weapon, and if you don't just accept what is fact and start acting normal then I'll find one and hit you over the head with it. Hard."

Warsaw thought about continuing on and ignoring what the Hungarian had said—until she saw the smirk on the other's face. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea… "Fine. But we're leaving here with Vilnius, even if she gets on our nerves. She's too cute and she'll get harassed by who knows if we leave her here."

"What? I won't-"

"Deal!" Budapest grinned. "Let's go then Warsaw, Vilnius!"

"I said—let go of me! Budapest!" Vilnius attempted to protest as she was dragged along behind the two, but she really didn't have a chance. When Budapest set her sights on something—or Warsaw, for that matter—there was no way to get out of it or away from either of the two. Warsaw would know this to be fact…

The three left the blonde's apartment, Warsaw stopping and locked the door behind them with the spare key she had received some number of years earlier. After that momentary pause she caught up to the other two and so they traveled together for a couple of minutes, Vilnius at some point finally giving in and walked herself instead of having to be dragged. Luckily the park they were bound for wasn't too far off and soon enough they had stopped and were standing in a loose semi-circle, either staring at the pond or at the trees. Not too interesting, but none of them felt like talking for that moment.

But onto more important matters than thinking about what they were—or weren't—doing at their current point in time. After all, they had the person they had come to get with them now, didn't they? Things would be able to stay perfect as long as they didn't run into anyone annoying, like-

She shouldn't have thought of that. Who else shows up to ruin her now brightened mood other than the spawn of the devil himself? And dragging… someone with him. Whatever, that part didn't matter.

"Привет, Варшава, Вильнюс, и в Будапеште!" The evil bas—Moscow said, smiling widely and being creepy as was expected of him and his evil creeper of a country, Russia. Admittedly he wasn't as creepy and nowhere close to as psychotic as his country, but Warsaw still disliked—well, hated—his guts.

Apparently Budapest held similar sentiments. "Get lost, pöcsfej. We don't want to talk to you." Vilnius had taken to hiding behind her, only peering out slightly at the Russian. The Baltic countries weren't the only ones who were scared of Russia and his associate.

Moscow's gray eyes dulled slightly, but he was still smiling. "Aww, you don't _really_ mean that, Budapest! I know you, and you're really much nicer than that!"

"Oh really?" Warsaw deadpanned, setting one of her hands on her hip. "If you did, you would know that saying that was, like, a _really_ dumb thing to say." This was confirmed with a quick glance to Budapest, whose right eye was twitching slightly. She was also holding a stick. Sure, not as effective as a facet pipe or a frying pan, but still a decent weapon in a pinch.

"Idiot, let go of me!" Warsaw finally took slight notice of the figure who Moscow had been dragging with him. Said figure, who for some reason looked slightly familiar, was glaring at the male with blue eyes that had hardened to something akin to ice. "I don't want to be pounded by a pissed Hungarian!"

"But Kaliningrad," he said, still smiling but appearing to be slightly pouting, "I'll keep you from getting hurt!"

She didn't let down her glare. "Let. Go. Of. Me." After a moment with no change she faced the other three. "Help me get away from this—away from Moscow, please? He hasn't left me alone all day and he's getting on my nerves!"

"And who are you?" Seriously, Warsaw didn't recognize this chick just from a name. She wasn't a genius or anything.

"I'm Kaliningrad! Moscow won't leave me alone. Now, can't you help me out a little?"

"No, we can't." Ah, _now_ Warsaw recognized the name. They had no business with any of Russia's cities. Capital was one thing, cities quite another. Besides, they could handle their _own_ business.

"Seriously? Help me out already!" The platinum blonde appeared to be cursing heavily under her breath, but it didn't last too long as Moscow, _still_ smiling, tugged on her arm again.

"Now, дорогой, we must be going, нет?"

The other Russian's eyes widened at the statement. "_What_ did you say to me? I'll-" She didn't get to finish her statement as the taller of the two started walking briskly away, skipping slightly as he drug the now irate ex-capital and present city behind him.

The three watched them leave for a couple of seconds as the shorter of the pair kept struggling, even when she had been slung over one of Moscow's shoulders. She also appeared to be giving them the finger. How lovely. But Warsaw didn't really give that much of a crap, and apparently neither did Budapest or Vilnius as the first suggested a round of I Spy and the other agreed. She eagerly joined in, despite the non-exciting nature of the game, and the Polish capital started questioning just _why_ they had decided to go on a trip to the park with Vilnius in the first place when they had nothing planned to do. Then again, did it matter? No, it didn't, she finally concluded. Spending time with a friend that she hadn't seen in a while was worthy enough of their time.

* * *

**A/N: Hmm. I actually put in a line this time, just in case the formatting was being a pain again while submitting this chapter. **

**...I have a feeling that this chapter wasn't all that good. I tried reviewing it over, but I wasn't sure at times what to edit and what not to edit. Writer's dilemma, eh? I'm still looking for a beta who can review my chapters, but no responses yet.**

**Also, no reviews last chapter? Sure, I submitted this chapter pretty quickly after the last one (less than a week! Woot!) but still, you make me cry. :'( Alright, so maybe I'm exaggerating just a _little_. Fine, I'm exaggerating a lot. But still, if you have time I would greatly appreciate any feedback you could give me.**

**As to translations, thanks are to Google ('cause I know only 'brother', 'sister', 'yes', and 'no' in Russian) and to a site called youswear. com, which has tons of curses in different languages. (You can find the cuss words in here on there under their respective language categories, in case you are curious.) But here you go:**

**Magyarország (Hungarian)- Hungary**

**"Привет, Варшава, Вильнюс, и в Будапеште!" (Russian)- "Hi, Warsaw, Vilnius, and Budapest!" (For some reason it added the 'B' letter thing along with the 'e' letter at the end when I put the exclamation mark on the end, so I'm not sure if that's correct or not...)**

**Pöcsfej (Hungarian)- D****bag**

**дорогой (Russian)- Darling**

**нет (Russian)- No (I figured that since some people say '...yes?' and others say '...no?' as an affirmative ending to statements and because Russia already uses the yes/da that Moscow would possibly use this, pronounced like 'nyet', instead. In other words, it's because I didn't want to have people thinking I was having Moscow be a mini-me of Russia as he is most certainly not, even if they are pretty similar. ;])**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: The Joys of a Family

Moscow POV

"_Brother… marrymemarrymemarrymemarryme—"_

"_GoawaygowaygoawayGOAWAY—"_

Moscow sighed, leaning back against the wall by the front door. He would've helped Russia out of his situation—if it was anyone other than Belarus. He had been threatened more than once by her knives—how she kept them hidden on her person, he had no clue—and he did not desire to repeat the experience. Besides, no one besides Minsk could handle her, and he wasn't sure how the other capital managed to do so. He always succeeded at pulling her out of the Russian house, even when she came to 'visit' more than once or twice a week.

Moscow found Minsk to be an alright person. They weren't the closest, but considering current events weren't that far apart either. Then again, Minsk seemed to be disliking Russia and him more and more, and they weren't talking so much any longer. Maybe it had something to do with Minsk's current boss...? He didn't really know, but it was something to suspect, no? The blonde turned his head upon hearing the door next to him creak open. _Помяни чёрта..._

"Добры дзень, Масква," The gray-haired capital said, pale blue eyes betraying no emotion—as was usual—as he stepped through the doorway and in front of the Russian. Despite his greeting in Belarusian Minsk mostly spoke in Russian, so it was always rather easy for Moscow to understand him. _"This is the… fifth time this week, correct?"_

"_Yes, it is."_ The Russian capital smiled slightly. _"I really wonder why that is. Do you know?"_

Minsk's eyebrow rose a little, but otherwise he made no other move. _"Why would I know? Now, I should go and get her now before she goes and does something too much further."_ He turned away from the other in an almost mechanical action and started to ascend the staircase.

"_Wait!"_ Moscow moved from the wall a couple of steps, expression lighting up. _"You're going to the next meeting and the dance, no?"_

The Belarusian paused, his lips appearing to twitch into something that might've been a smile momentarily before his face was cleared once again. _"Of course I am. I'm assuming you're taking the opportunity to bring along some of your cities with you."_

"_Why wouldn't I?"_ Moscow's smile grew wider. _"St. Petersburg and Kaliningrad are definitely going to come and some of the others might also, which makes me just so happy!"_ It was unspoken that by 'going to come' he meant 'going to be dragged there, willingly or not' but that was one of his traits which he happened to share with his nation. Unlike Russia, however, he almost always thought that they actually wanted to come but that they were 'too shy to say so'.

"_Good. _Now_ I'm going to get Belarus."_ The gray haired male continued up the stairs and Moscow realized that that moment was the opportunity to hide while the crazed country was leaving the household—she was still very able to use her knives or any handy weapon on him as 'practice'—and so hid himself in the kitchen. That way he could hide in the pantry or escape out the window if something went wrong—not that it did often, but still.

A few minutes later he could hear the obsessive sibling darkly muttering and then the sound of a door opening and then being slammed shut. He waited a little longer, heard nothing else, and was peeking his head into the hallway when he heard tapping behind him. Moscow stopped himself from panicking—badly, at least—and relaxed when he turned around and saw Kiev staring at him from the other side of the window rather than Belarus. Then again, the latter probably would've not bothered with alerting him and would have broken the window instead.

He unlocked and opened the window, curious about what the other was doing. "Привіт!" The Ukrainian said, grin barely noticeable under the scarf the sandy blonde capital always wore. _"Ukraine bumped into Belarus while we were coming here to deliver treats to Russia again, so I came over here to give them to you so she wouldn't forget and run off with them again!"_ Kiev help up the basket at about face level so as to allow Moscow to grab the handle and bring them through the open window. He did so, noting that despite the warm—for Moscow, at least—weather he was once again bunked out in several thick layers of clothing. This compounded the issue that no one except for perhaps Ukraine knew whether the capital was female or male. The Russian thought he was a guy, but Minsk insisted that Kiev was the opposite and so they had set up a sort of 'bet' on the outcome—whenever they would be able to find that out.

Aforementioned capital remained grinning as he ran off towards an emotional nation. Moscow checked to see that Belarus and Minsk were indeed far away from the house before climbing up the start to check on Russia and both confirm that his younger sister had left the residence and inform him that Ukraine had brought food. Then he could go and find Kaliningrad! For some reason she always left the house when Belarus was nearby, despite never being noticed by the country. After that he could find a few other Russian cities to do stuff with or he could even visit the Baltic capitals again. He grinned as he reached the entrance to the house and pulled on one of his lighter jackets. It looked like the rest of the day was going to be so much fun!

* * *

**A/N: Writing Moscow is actually pretty fun. He's like a more innocent Russia in this story. (I'd like to think that's because not only is he the largest city in the country but he also was unlikely to have snapped quite as much as Russia himself, as though he was of course involved in the Russian Revolution he was a city and therefore was less impacted. Or my thinking could be completely off. If so, I apologize in advance. XD) **

**Oh, and I'm now rewriting the first chapter! I've figured that it was so horridly written that I needed to drastically improve it. Expect to be notified of that soonish! :]**

**As a note, Moscow personally refers to Kiev as 'he'. That is by far no actual means to telling what Kiev's gender is. (If this had been from Minsk's POV, for example, Kiev would've been referred to as a 'she'.) Also, you all may or may not find out officially whether Kiev is a girl or boy, so feel free to guess. ;] **

**Translation time! (One of these was by Google Translate, so if any of you know better I'd appreciate being corrected. /knows no Cyrillic languages whatsoever)**

**_Помяни чёрта (Russian)- Speak of the devil_**

**_Добры дзень, Масква (Belarusian)- Good afternoon, Moscow_**

**_Привіт (Ukrainian)- Hello_**

**Oh, and as yet another note, if y'all haven't noticed (I'm not sure if I've told you yet), if a character is speaking in italics that means they are speaking in a language other than English. (Also, Minsk mostly speaks Russian as very few Belarusians can actually speak Belarusian and Kiev was speaking in Russian but usually uses Ukrainian.)**


End file.
